


bridging the gap

by orphan_account



Series: the honest truth [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Character Development, Gen, Gender Issues, LGBT+, alt canon missing scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24120712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sanji lands on an island full of LGBT+ individuals. It's a learning experience.
Series: the honest truth [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752061
Comments: 14
Kudos: 72





	bridging the gap

**Author's Note:**

> alt title: sanji grows up and grows a pair
> 
> i wrote this fic in Two Whole Hours and it's probably a mess. anyways, enjoy ♡

When Sanji first lands on Momoiro Island after sailing through the air for three days, he’s bruised and battered, primarily concerned with finding the island’s inhabitants so he can haul his sorry ass back to Sabaody.

Eventually, he runs into a couple of residents, burly fellows with a dangerous gleam in their eyes. Then, Sanji’s primary concern shifts to staying alive, doing his best to keep out of the clutches of the hairy-chinned nuisances masquerading as women.

They coo over him, describing his features as _delicate_ and _sharp_. He doesn’t know anything about that—only that he’s disgusted by them, that he doesn’t want any part of their silly games. Every day, they come clutching makeup and dresses, telling him how delightful he’d look in them, so he hides, climbing up further into the trees to have a moment of peace and quiet. For better or worse, he _does_ build up muscle mass, his calves growing stronger from the strenuous exercise.

On his fourth day on the island, he gets caught. It’s due to negligence; he’d taken a nap in broad daylight after running through the rain all night, chilled to the bone and shivering in his sleep.

Tibany is the one who finds him, a strong-jawed cross-dresser with bright red lipstick lacquered on. Before he can get up and make a run for it, Tibany puts a palm on Sanji’s chest, urging him to rest. “You’re running a fever,” Tibany says, standing up to head for the kitchen.

Sanji watches Tibany shuffle around, familiar with the routine. She pours ice and water into a basin that has a rag hanging over the edge of it, wringing it out before placing it on Sanji’s burning forehead. “You promise you won’t do anything to me while I’m sleeping?”

Tibany snorts. “How rude. I’m a lady.”

 _Not a chance,_ Sanji thinks, but he holds his tongue—even if he believes that, it’s an awfully rude thing to say to the person taking care of him right now.

He falls asleep to the sound of chatter, waking up to the smell of something delicious baking in the oven, curious about what it is Tibany is making. He makes a mental note to ask her later, if he finds he can stand her company for more than five minutes when he’s fully aware.

* * *

When Iva arrives two weeks later, everything is different. They come bearing news about Luffy, who is alive, but just barely, and Sanji feels relief wash over him like a warm blanket. If Luffy’s alive, everything’s fine. Their crew can come back together stronger than ever, and Sanji won’t let them down this time.

Iva’s training regimen is strict, but scheduled. They warn the other inhabitants of the island to leave Sanji to them, making sure to leave Sanji bruised and begging for mercy every day.

There are quiet moments, too, though. Sometimes, Iva gets a strange look in their eye, like they know they need to sit down and have a conversation with the blonde they’ve taken under their wing. On the weekends, when Sanji sits in with the citizens of the island and learns new recipes from them, Iva tries to maintain their distance, hoping that by doing so, Sanji won’t feel so repulsed by them.

It’s easy to hate things and people that you don’t understand. The better Sanji gets to know them, the harder they’ll be to hate.

That’s why, three months into Sanji’s stay, Iva taps on Sanji’s shoulder and pulls him away from the crowd, watching as the cigarette smoke billows around Sanji’s head.

“You know,” Iva says, “I’ve let it slide for a long time, but you need to start using our pronouns correctly. We have feelings too, little boy.”

Sanji’s eye twitches at the word _little_ , but he maintains a relative sense of composure. “You're all men,” he mutters, looking at his feet. “I don’t get why I have to do that.”

“ _Some_ of us are men,” Iva corrects Sanji. “Some of us are women, or transgender, or nonbinary.” They jab Sanji in the chest with a particularly sharp nail. “Don’t act stupid, boy. It’s not cute.”

“There are men and there are women. That’s _it_. End of discussion.”

Iva elbows Sanji in the side using armament _haki_ , nearly crushing his ribs. “You don’t get to decide that. Gender is a social construct. Using their proper pronouns is a matter of respect. If you’re so high and mighty that you think you can play god and tell them what they’re feeling is fake, then go ahead. Do it. The lovelies adore you, foul mouth and all. Go over there and trample on their dreams.”

Sanji pulls himself up on one elbow, struggling to breathe. “I didn’t go that far, Iva.”

“You might as well have,” Iva says, turning sharply on their heel and walking away.

* * *

Caroline, the previous ruler of Kamabakka, stops chasing him when she processes his question, stunned silent. “I must’ve heard that wrong. I thought I heard _you_ ask a question about gender and sexuality.”

The stronger members of the kingdom have taken to training with Sanji again, but this time, under Iva’s orders. Every day, there’s a new gauntlet of weapons to throw at the blonde, tricks and traps, helping him master the tricks that most of Cipher Pol has mastered.

“You didn’t,” Sanji grumbles, crushing a cigarette butt under his heel.

“Ooh, so you’ve finally decided to stop being shy.” Caroline takes a seat on a nearby log, patting the empty space beside her. “C’mon, then. I’ll make up some excuse for Iva later. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Sanji’s been here six months, and begrudgingly, he admits that his fellow residents on Momoiro Island aren’t so bad, but he still finds their penchant for heavy makeup and pretending to be something they’re not appalling. However, he knows that he’s been a grade-A jackass to them, outright insulting their lifestyle on occasion, and if he really wants to grow up and show his crew that he’s become a bigger person, he figures that the first step to doing so is to understand his freaky neighbors.

“I was always taught,” Sanji starts slowly, “that there were only men and women, no exceptions. Let’s say that my background was not-so-great.” He refuses to touch the whole business about his family with a ten-foot pole, skirting around the topic as best he can. “Real rough and tumble upbringing. Not a whole lotta room for _exploration_. When the older boys start nagging you about getting laid and grabbing tits, you follow suit or you get your ass kicked.”

“Sounds about right,” Caroline muses, smiling down at him fondly.

“I learned to kick ass, so nobody talked shit about me, but I also learned something. That women were beautiful, to be respected, and the reason that life goes on in this world. What’s the point of acting like a woman if you can’t be one?”

With a hum, Caroline kicks her legs. “I _am_ a woman, Sanji.”

Sanji turns and glares at her. “You know what I mean.”

“Sex and gender are different things. You can be born into a body you love or you hate. Nowadays, with so many powers in the world, chances are you could find someone to make cosmetic adjustments, but gender’s a little bit different. Tell me, why do you smoke?”

Shyly, Sanji murmurs, “Because I thought smoking would prove that I was an adult.”

“And why do you love women so much?”

“I dunno, I just do,” Sanji flatly replies, stating the obvious.

“Easy, right?” Caroline giggles, putting a hand on her cheek. “That’s how most of us feel about gender. If you feel like a man, you _are_ one, and you act like one. Wearing frilly dresses and talking about boys is fun and it’s easy for us, and we like doing it. We don’t have to shave, or look curvy, androgynous, and soft to prove that we’re women. We just _are_.”

“Huh,” Sanji says. “Guess I didn’t think about it like that.”

* * *

It gets easier to adjust his mindset from that point on, whittling through the days with the many folks he’s grown to know and love. He becomes intimately familiar with the kitchens of almost every citizen on Momoiro Island, with all of them forced to patch him up after training. He’d started the routine of cooking breakfast with them as payment, sweating bullets as he leans on their countertops with trembling legs.

When Iva thinks Sanji has outgrown the abilities of the common folk, Francois and Inazuma join the queen in Sanji’s excessive regimen, pushing him to the brink of collapse every two or three days.

It’s been a year since Sanji’s crash landing, and Iva gets the sense that it’s time for another heart-to-heart. Dismissing their aides, Iva makes room for them to be alone, inviting Sanji into their living room for tea.

“I’m sorry about all those nasty things I said before,” is the first thing Sanji says, lips curled around a cup. “I know it’s not enough to just apologize, but I need to. I’ve made my peace with everyone else on the island, but I wanted to make sure I saved the best for last.”

Iva chuckles. “I appreciate it. I’ve noticed you’ve been calling everyone by their name instead of _freak_ or _weirdo_. And that you’ve been using their pronouns.”

Sanji leans back on the couch with a sigh, patting down his breast pocket for his lighter. “I don’t get it. I don’t think I’ll ever get it.” Idly, he remembers playing along with them on a lazy afternoon, letting the girls fix a wig on his head with bobby pins and finding a dress that complemented his shapely calves. It’d been a fairly fun day, all things considered. “But I know it’s important to all of you, so I’ll try to do better.”

“Don’t you ever wonder if you’re the best you that you could be? If things were different, how life might change?”

The words sting. Sanji grimaces. “Every day.”

“Then you get it,” Iva replies, patting him on the head with one of their large, manicured fingers. “If you try to do the right thing, that’s all we can ask.”

* * *

On the day they arrange to ship off from Momoiro Island and head to Sabaody, Sanji finds himself sad to part from the unruly group he’s become so close to. “You assholes better stay safe,” he warns them, pointing his cigarette at the crowd with a scowl. “Be grateful that I cooked one last world-class meal for you lot, because I’m never coming back here!”

“Shy boy,” Caroline jeers, sticking out her tongue. “You just don’t wanna admit that you’ll miss us.”

He refuses to give them the satisfaction of acknowledging that truth, so he simply huffs and turns around, stepping on the ship with the less notorious island citizens.

In a land of discovery and acceptance, Sanji learns a lot about himself, and more importantly, he learns the fine art of humility. After all, if an entire island of social pariahs could take him in as one of their own, why would he let something as awful as the world government stand in his way?

**Author's Note:**

> ✧tumblr: **[@quillifer](https://quillifer.tumblr.com/)**  
>  ✧twitter: **[@quillifer](https://twitter.com/quillifer)**


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